


Something to Treasure

by ravenhairedtrickster



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Death Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenhairedtrickster/pseuds/ravenhairedtrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo sits with Bofur as the end draws near.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any errors, been years since I've read the book.

Oh Gods. There was so much blood, too much soaking through the Dwarf's tunics, matting his hair. Bilbo fell to his knees, unable to speak as he gazed into Bofur's sad eyes, blood streaking his face where large tears had been carved into his normally rosy - now pale - cheeks. The extent of damage was unfathomable, and yet Bofur's chest still rose and fell and Bilbo found himself watching, afraid that the Dwarf would stop breathing all together. 

"Bofur," Bilbo tried, shuffling forward, reaching out to press some unruly brown hair from the others face. What could he say? There was nothing he wanted more than to plead with the Dwarf, wait a bit longer, hold on because Gandalf could surely fix this. Couldn't he?

"Ah, Bilbo," Bofur uttered, his voice so frail and quiet the Hobbit almost missed the words. "I'm glad yer alright."

He felt tears on his cheeks, hot, salty tears that cascaded down to his chin where they fell and mingled with the blood on Bofur's chest. No, this wasn't right, Bofur didn't deserve this, not after everything they'd been through, not after getting so far. Bilbo wanted to look up, scream for Gandalf but in order to do that he would waste precious seconds, moments he'd regret to having lost if Bofur passed before help arrived.

"I-I'm fine," he murmured, wiping tears from his face with the back of his hand. 

"That's good," Bofur mumbled, a pained smile lighting up his face. "I'm glad."

Bilbo shook his head.

"Bombur?" Bofur asked after a few minutes of wheezed breathing, "Bifur?"

It felt as though a knife had been driven into his heart. Here, laying in the blood soaked grass, dying without anything to ease the pain Bofur was worried about his brothers. The Dwarf's worry touched Bilbo deeply.

"Both fine," he assured though he had no knowledge of either of the other Dwarves. The relief that spread over Bofur's face was worth the lie, as cruel as it was. 

They spent a moment in silence before Bofur coughed, blood painting his lips scarlet, a grim testament to the Dwarfs fate, the death that hovered close in the icy air. Bilbo reached into his pocket and drew out his handkerchief, the one Bofur had ripped from his own clothes. 

As he dabbed at the blood Bofur said with some great amount of wonderment: "You still have it."

Bilbo smiled warmly and pressed his palm to Bofur's cheek, stifling a sob as the Dwarf nuzzled into the touch, his eyes closing. 

"Of course I kept it," Bilbo replied and his breath got caught in his throat as Bofur stilled, one last sigh escaping his lips. The Hobbit bowed forward, gathering the Dwarf to his chest and pressing his face to Bofur's hair, not caring about the blood. "You gave it to me."


End file.
